United Colleges - Vox Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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vox 23 A Lyric Poet of the West By T. deYong and B.T.R. It was with all the thrill of dis¬ covering a new poet that we read the selections from the work of Mrs. Christina Willey in the De¬ cember issue of the Canadian Book¬ man. She has been called “The Lyric Voice of the West,” and her poems bear abundant witness to a rich lyric quality. As far as we can ascertain, Mrs. Willey is a native of England, though now living at Bredenbury, Saskatchewan. Much of her verse testifies to her Western outlook, but her gift is not shackled to themes of merely local interest. “The Wanderer” strikes a univer¬ sal note, that of the haunting spirit of age mingled with the com¬ pensations of memory. Its theme is the memory of beautiful Helen of Troy and closes with these verses: I think I journeyed to the outer seas, I think I saw the thundering waters fall Across the very edges of the world. I knew the Great Ones. I forget them all. I have lived much but worn and aged am I. Oh, Stranger! if but once my living eyes Could see the tall towers rise Across that plain, I should be young again. I dream. Tall Troy is down; But wind-blown ashes is the mighty town, And I have lost fair Helen many years. Who am If I forget. I only knew That Time has robbed me even of my tears, That all my songs are sung. Perhaps I was that Paris, as men say, Wearied I am, and old and lost, and grey, But once I loved Gold Helen, and was young. She is successful, also, we think, with her delicate fairy-poems, rem¬ iniscent of childhood. However, the greater number of Mrs. Willey’s poems are Western lyrics. She re¬ cords the conflict in the newcomer’s heart of the demands of the Old Land and the awakening love for the New. She has an artist’s skill with words and records in marvel¬ lous fashion the true beauty of the Prairies. I wonder, can the prairie-born forget The far-off bluff-gap with the marking blaze, The evening wood-smoke when the grass is wet. The river valley blue with bush-fire haze, The badger earth, the fox den on the hill. The rare, sad, ghostly evening whip-poor-will? The gopher, praying hands on vel¬ vet breast, Alert, inquisitive, a prairie clown. The great cranes, flying black against the west, Beauty’s own shadow, as the sun goes down, Green poplar-mist, the miracles of May, The vibrant sun-drenched Western summer day? There is an underlying poign¬ ancy in the following which is

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22 VOX the good of the past than to risk the new and untried project. But we are all one in deploring an un¬ utterably low standard of political mentality which could permit a member of the elected body to see what he believed to be flagrant cor¬ ruption and fail to make it known to the House. Young Manitobans do not want in public life a man, or a group of men (whatever.their political name may be), who could see a money cheque in the hands of a member, be convinced that it was a bribe, and not rise to defend the dignity and honor of the House. That they should use this knowledge equivocally four years later is no palliation of such con¬ duct. We had not believed that such a silence was possible to men who are in the British tradition, and have gained a measure of public confidence. Be that as it may, young Manitobans will be jealous of the honor and integrity of our representative body. Were we hon¬ estly convinced that such gross bribery was taking place, we would at all costs vindicate the ancient dig¬ nity and honesty of the House. To behave otherwise would be suicidal, for government by the people can¬ not live under such conditions. Also, we young Manitobans de¬ plore the mentality which could cause an elected representative to speak of bribery being used to “sweeten” the members of the House. O tempora, O mores! to regard bribery as a “sweetening” process! Besides the conservatores among us, there are radicals—idealists, not unpractical, whose faces are set to¬ wards the future. They believe that their program of social good will be achieved by a steady ad¬ vance, and by a realism in the fac¬ ing of issues. Some of these rad¬ icals will be thoroughly against capitalism, just as keenly as some of us are against socialism. But all we young Manitobans are agreed that if we are avowedly opposed to some economic or social institution, we will retain our integrity as thinkers and advocates, and not try to make private gain out of a sys¬ tem which we publicly oppose. It is fairly clear to us that pub¬ lic life in Manitoba is at present not very healthy. It is suffering from the threefold evil of great oppor¬ tunism, low mentality, and doc¬ trinaire myopia. There is some health still, we believe, in the body politic. It is not, however, mens sana in corpore sano. Here, then, is one of our jobs as young Mani¬ tobans. Unless the job is done, we must not complain if it becomes in¬ creasingly difficult for our best men to turn to politics as an honorable —and honest—career. But in any case, be they high or low, we shall have the men we deserve. DRAMATIC ACTIVITIES United Colleges Dramatic So¬ ciety is to be congratulated upon its splendid offerings on March 1 8 and 19 last, when appreciative houses enjoyed: “Brothers in Arms,” by Merrill Denison; producer, Mrs. Pyper. Caste: Nora Maunders, W. Conly, S. McLeod, D. Phillips. “The Shadow of Peter,” by Harry Green; producer, Mr. Eg- gertson. Caste: Eleanor McCurdy, W. Harland, J. McKidd. “How He Lied to Her Hus¬ band,” by G. B. Shaw; producer. Mr. Jarman. Caste: Phyllis Cates, J. Howlett, G. Punter.

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24 VOX probably echoed in many a heart on the Western plains: Oh, tuho am I to dream of swing¬ ing ships, Of hrown-sailed fishers beating in with dawn? But I have tasted spray upon my lips, Have loved rough weather, I am island-born. Ah, that grim headland and that gracious bay Are half a world and half a life away. She describes how her allegiance is torn between her adopted and and her native land in ‘‘Hearth Fires”: The river gods of all the world nod wise wet heads and say — Who drinketh of my waters I will call him back some day —- And that perhaps is how indeed the happy strife began, The Thames beneath the Cliveden Woods—the great Saskatche¬ wan. And who has not seen a Canadian summer like this?: Slow lazy days of breathless heat, Piled thunder-heads and slanting rain, Cloud-shadows sailing o’er the wheat, Suns that but set to rise again, The sudden fire-fly’s fairy light, Shrill castanets of of frogs at night, Oh, life, ’ Tis summer in Saskatchewan! The men of Hudson’s Bay Com¬ pany provide the theme for a stir¬ ring song, which sounds out the sturdy tread of a pioneer band: We took the man from London T own, We lured the lad from Liver¬ pool, From distant Isle and heather brown The Celt came West, and made our rule. We never knew the townsmen’s fears, Ho, Ho, we were the pioneers! We went by rivers, wild, un¬ known, We made the trails for men to tread, By lakes seen by the loon alone We built our fire and made our bed. There, where the Dancing Light appears, Ho, Ho, we were the pioneers! In printing a number of Mrs. Willey’s poems in the Annual Poetry Number of December, the Canadian Bookman announced that her collected poems will be published in book form, which will make them available to all. Are the problems of peace too great for us? Where are we to find the spiritual elan and vitality so that by a concerted effort some means can be taken to solve our pressing political and economic problems. Will the church give us a lead? It may head a subscription list, and urge personal giving, but how about the finding and curing of the sources of social evil? The energy, devotedness and economic sacrifice involved in one battle of the Great War would go far to make over the world. ‘‘Peace hath her victories No less renowned than war:” but, we suspect, they are a great deal more difficult of achievement!